


ho fatto un casino

by kedda



Series: non perdere la fiducia in me [2]
Category: SKAM (Italy)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Martino's thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-25
Updated: 2018-10-25
Packaged: 2019-08-07 11:49:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16407950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kedda/pseuds/kedda
Summary: FUCK.





	ho fatto un casino

FUCK.

 

He is utterly bricking this encounter with Niccolò, choking on words he doesn't even know how to say. Or more accurately, words he doesn't want to say, words he can't say now. He levels Niccolò with a stare, willing him to understand what he is silently communicating. Niccolò looks back, eyes big, but seems to understand that Martino is asking him to lie for him. Distantly Martino knows that he will regret this when he can focus on anything other than the collision of his two worlds and the inevitable disaster that will follow.

He can sense Gio nodding to his left, the subtle, dangerous kind of movement that tells Martino that they will likely be talking at some point about something that he would have to lie about to get out of, again.  He’s fucking up again and the old bitterness climbs up the back of his throat. Ever since that disaster of a night after Niccolò made his intentions —or lack thereof— abundantly clear, Martino has been looking for some way to keep the same misery that happened with Gio from playing out again.  Making up with Emma was one of the steps he was taking to get there. Niccolò appearing out of nowhere was not part of the plan. His presence just reminds Martino of the hours he’d spent at Niccolò’s house, deluded into thinking that maybe something could happen, maybe he could want something, someone, without hurting someone else or himself.  He honestly isn’t sure what he thought could happen. He had felt free for an afternoon, out of control but not minding it. He can’t look at Niccolò in the way the boys look at the volleyball girls; openly, unreservedly, publicly. But in the safety of that beautiful living room, smoke rising from their mouths to mingle in the air above them, he had let himself look at this strange, gorgeous boy.

He is, contrary to all expectations and frankly, common sense, a romantic.  His imagination is quick to craft tender futures out of an innocent touch, and it was under the dangerous guidance of this imagination that he let himself believe that the connection between them might come to something different.  He had to tamp down his anger that night at the movies, but once he was home and staring into the empty fridge he recognized his foolishness. Fortunately he has a lot of practice using reason to weight these fantasies, like ballast on a hot air balloon. So long as it did not leave the ground he did not have to know what flying felt like.

Some months ago, Luca had asked him, “Why do you always act like if the worst thing can happen, it will happen?  Doesn’t that just make it more likely that it’ll happen?” Martino had followed Luca into the kitchenette and Luca was struggling to open a jar of peppers in oil.  Martino forgets what they had been talking about exactly, but it probably involved the dinner with his dad’s new family that he’d been putting off.

“I don’t act like that.”  Luca twisted one last time before begrudgingly handing the jar over to Martino.  As he popped the lid open, Luca just looked at him with wary eyes, mouth settling into an uncertain line.  When either Gio or Elia call him on his bullshit they sigh, raise their eyebrows, shove him, bullying him until he finally admits whatever it is that he’s got on his mind.  Luca’s hesitance might have been due to the fact that he was the most recent addition to their group, but Martino has the sense that Luca is generally more cautious when it comes to managing the emotional state of other people, usually preferring to joke around in groups.

“Sure, I just think that maybe things might not turn out so bad,” Luca had said, fiddling with a drawer handle.  “I mean, whatever happens, you know you have us. And I know I’m new to,” he moves his hand around in a circle, “the uh, group, but I’m also in that.  Y’know?” 

Luca had grimaced and Martino couldn’t help but laugh.  “Don’t hurt yourself, Luchino.” Luca had shoved at him, and they went back to talking about FIFA, but Luca's words had moved him.   


Feeling trapped in the gym now, he wonders to what extent Luca had been telling the truth.  If he had been prepared for the worst, he might have seen this coming. Separations had rarely been clean in Martino’s life; expecting that these two worlds would never overlap was uncharacteristically hopeful.

Niccolò is looking at him again.  His face is still with uncertainty, and Martino feels a brief stab of schadenfreude.   _ “See you around?” _ he’d said last Friday night when Martino was leaving.  Martino hadn’t responded, only able to manage a false smile.  Now he just feels sick. He wishes that Niccolò would just act normally, that Gio weren’t so perceptive; that he could just like girls and pass on all this nonsense.  A hand is suddenly in his lap; it’s Gio, grabbing his earbuds and nodding at Niccolò. “Grazie,” Gio finishes, which prompts Martino to say the same. And with a final searching look, Niccolò seems to give up and walks off with a wave.

And curse Martino’s dumbass heart, honestly, because it just keeps on pounding.


End file.
